Chapter 613: Waiting for You to Give Me an Explanation

"At Norhaven."

Although Quentin Blackwood was confused about why Ivy Sherwood was at Norhaven, he still said, "I’ll be right there."

Quentin drove himself, speeding all the way, and arrived at Norhaven in less than half an hour.

The butler was there. Seeing Quentin rush in, he greeted him, "Mr. Blackwood."

"Where is Ivy?"

"In the study."

Quentin immediately went to the study. Pushing the door open, he saw Ivy standing by the bookshelf, facing a row of finance books.

Quentin’s study was massive, filled with countless books. Many were valuable collectibles, and quite a few were rare, one-of-a-kind editions.

Ivy just stared at the books; it was hard to tell if she was actually reading them.

Quentin strode in, stepped up behind her, and gently pulled her into his arms.

"What are you looking at?"

"Just browsing." Ivy had known he was there the moment he entered—he hadn’t exactly been quiet.

"What brings you here so suddenly?" Catching sight of her cheek, Quentin couldn’t resist leaning in to press a kiss against it.

It was soft and fragrant. It felt so good.

With his arms wrapped around her, he never wanted to let go.

He thought about how foolish he had been. If he had just asked one more question earlier, he would have learned the truth much sooner.

"I was waiting for you," Ivy said, shifting in his embrace. "Let go of me first. Let’s go sit over there."

She had intended to walk over and sit on the sofa, but Quentin simply swept her up into his arms instead.

"You..."

Ivy hadn’t expected him to pick her up at the drop of a hat, especially when the sofa was only a few steps away.

"Go on, what did you want to tell me?" Quentin placed her gently on the sofa, then dropped to one knee right in front of her.

He just wanted to be closer to her.

Seeing him like this made it hard for Ivy to lose her temper.

"The real question is what *you* have to tell *me*. Where were you just now? Don’t you have anything to explain?" she asked, deliberately keeping a straight face.

She wanted to be angry, but knowing the truth behind the situation, she couldn’t muster any real fury.

She knew Quentin too well. Even if she saw surveillance footage with her own eyes, she wouldn’t believe he would betray her.

Jason Summers was full of tricks, and she certainly didn’t trust him. Still, Quentin owed her an explanation about what exactly was going on between him and Claire Sherwood.

"I went to see Claire," Quentin answered.

That was a straightforward answer. Ivy nodded. "Go on."

However, Quentin didn’t continue. Instead, he just looked at her.

He reached out and gently brushed her cheek. "You aren’t jealous?"

"Why should I be jealous? Did you do something shady behind my back?"

"Doesn’t it bother you that I was with another woman?" he asked.

"Do you think I’m made of jealousy? Am I supposed to be possessive every single day? There are so many women in the world. If I got jealous every time you were alone with someone else, I’d drown in my own bitterness!"

Seeing her expression, Quentin’s heart softened.

Before he could say anything, Ivy added, "Still, what could you two possibly have to discuss that required going to a hotel?"

"What hotel?"

"Wasn’t it? That was clearly a hotel room. I saw it myself. You two were holding each other. Claire was hugging you pretty tightly, wasn’t she? Have you hugged her enough, Mr. Blackwood?" Ivy asked, gritting her teeth.

Even though she knew it was a setup, it didn’t stop her from giving him a hard time. She wanted him to sweat a little, feel a sense of crisis, and give her a proper explanation.

Quentin paused in surprise. "You saw it?"

"What, did you not want me to see?"

"Of course not. Claire and I are completely innocent; there’s nothing you can’t see. I just don’t know who is scheming to drive a wedge between us. I did go to see her, but it wasn’t a hotel. It was just a private room decorated to look like a hotel suite, specifically designed to make you misunderstand."

A thought struck Quentin. "Did Jason Summers show you a video?"

It was exactly like last time, when Jason had shown him a video of Claire tied up.

"Are you sure there’s nothing going on?" Ivy pressed.

"Nothing," Quentin affirmed with absolute certainty.

Ivy reached out and caressed his face with a mock sigh. "I was just thinking that if Mr. Blackwood had another woman, I’d have to kick him to the curb!"

Quentin leaned forward, shifting from kneeling in front of her to squeezing onto the sofa beside her.

"I’m afraid Mrs. Blackwood will never get that chance in her lifetime."

"Don’t call me that. I’m not Mrs. Blackwood yet!"

"You will be soon. We’re getting our marriage license in two days, aren’t we?"

"That’s still two days away. But I mean it. If you ever have another woman in the future, I will dump you."

"And I’ve also said that I’ll never give Mrs. Blackwood that chance."

Quentin leaned in, trying to kiss her again, but Ivy pushed him away.

"Don’t get so close to me. It’s too hot today."

Besides, she noticed a faint, strange scent on him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it smelled like blood—pungent, yet subtle.

"Are you hurt?" Ivy lifted his arm.

"No."

"Then why do I smell blood on you?"

It was definitely from when he had shot at Claire. Although no blood had splattered onto him, the metallic scent still clung to his clothes.

"I’ll go change."

Quentin swiftly took off his jacket and tossed it aside.

Clearly, he had no intention of keeping that six-figure designer coat anymore.

"Don’t bother. Weren’t you going to explain things to me? Go on, out with it. And I want to hear the details!"

Quentin looked at her with a complex gaze. Then, he rested his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling against her.

"Before we talk about that, I need to ask you a question."

"What question?"

"When you were a little girl, did you ever go over to The South Courtyard and deliver meals to someone for a while?

"Separated by a wall, through a small dog hole. You were out on the street, and that person was inside the yard."

Of course. How could Ivy ever forget that?

"How do you know that? Are you..." Ivy stared at him in shock.

She had never told anyone about it. Even if Quentin had investigated her past, there was no way he could have found out.

She wondered if Quentin was that little mute boy from back then.

Because the person inside the wall had never spoken a word, she had always assumed he was a little mute. She remembered talking to him endlessly, offering him all sorts of encouraging words.

The courtyard wall had been too tall, topped with an electric fence, so there was no way for her to get in.

The person inside never made a sound. The area looked like an abandoned doghouse. When she first started bringing food, she had heard rustling inside. Since the yard was supposedly empty, she had assumed an owner had forgotten their dog there, which was why she began feeding it.

Later, she realized there was a person inside. She spoke to him, but he never answered. She asked him what had happened and why he was home alone, but she was met with only silence.

She had even thought there had been an accident and wanted to call the police. But the officers thought she was just a mischievous little girl and shooed her away.

That lasted until Timothy Sherwood locked her in the house. After missing a day, she returned with food, only to find it untouched. The person inside seemed to have left.

Ivy had been frantic at the time. She had terrified herself with thoughts that something terrible had happened—that he had fainted inside, or even died. She tried everything she could think of and eventually begged the police to open the gate. To her dismay, the yard was completely empty, showing no signs that anyone had ever lived there.

It was as if her days of bringing food had been nothing more than a hallucination, a fleeting dream.

Quentin held her even tighter and spoke softly. "It was me."